


Two Years

by beariel



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Pre-Ant Man and the Wasp, Scott Lang x Reader - Freeform, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-06-11 16:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15319302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beariel/pseuds/beariel
Summary: You've been friends with Scott since elementary school, and not much has changed since then. But while on a mission to make his two years of house arrest bearable, you learn that a little change might not be so bad.





	1. Ego Boost

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've never written for the Marvel fandom before, but you're more than welcome to have this silly little mess! It'll be a small series about the two of you falling for each other over his two-year house arrest in the form of little drabbles and cute moments. I plan on posting it on Tumblr as well under the name bearscribbles!
> 
> Any constructive criticism you have is appreciated! Thank you for reading!

You were beginning to notice a trend.

While you were unable to be there for every day of Scott’s mind-numbing house arrest, you had been there often enough to learn that certain days were better than others. Those hours spent with his darling daughter Cassie were some of the happiest for him. You could see the way his entire being lit up when she squeaked his name, and there was no denying that his imagination and resourcefulness excelled with her around. He was a brilliant father despite his circumstances — only made it all the harder to watch him crash once she was out of sight.

When it was just the two of you, things were much quieter. You didn’t run up and down the stairs or slip down cardboard slides, but ( as his long-time friend ) you did give him something Cassie couldn’t:  _ real  _ companionship.

You had anticipated him calling you that afternoon. He always did whenever Cassie’s time with him was through. You had no plans to keep you preoccupied, so you promised him you’d be there as soon as humanly possible. A seventeen minute drive had you knocking on his door, a case of cold beer dangling from your fingers. Whether or not you liked it didn’t matter; Scott did, and you knew having a couple of drinks would help him relax.

“You brought beer? Awwh, you shouldn’t have!” He made to reach for it, but you pulled the case back and arched a brow.

“I shouldn’t have? Alright, well — I can always just drink ‘em all myself.” There was a playful tone in your voice, but he didn’t catch it. Whining, he lunged for the case. You didn’t fight him off this time, letting him grab at the neck of a bottle. “Big baby.”

“Not a baby.” He grumbled and shuffled into the kitchen with you hot on his trail.

“Sound like a baby.” You egged him on, ignoring the look of hurt he gave you

“I didn’t call you to come over and pick on me.” Not only did he sound exhausted, but he looked it too. His eyes sagged a little, his cheeks sported a fine layer of stubble, and he was in the middle of a jaw-popping yawn as he pried off the cap separating him and his beer. A hefty swig had been taken, the back of his hand swiping at his lips.

“I know. Sorry.” Setting aside the rest of the case, you approached the ragged man and reached up to comb your fingers through his hair. It was easy to forget that human contact wasn’t something he felt often now that he was reduced to staying in the small parameter of his home. Hugs from his daughter and the other half of her family were nice, but this was what he needed. Like a needy kitten, he nudged his head into your hand.

“Nah, it’s alright. I’m kind of askin’ for it when I go around lookin’ like this.” He chuckled. You laughed along with him and gave his prickly cheek a pat.

“You look like you haven’t shaved in weeks.”

“It’s been a day.”

“How?” You watched him walk out of the kitchen and into the living room where he flipped on the TV and flopped onto the sofa. He shrugged, but there was a smirk on his face.

“Guess I’m just manly like that.” He said with a rather self-confident air. You rolled your eyes and came to sit beside him, not caring that the arm he rested along the back of the sofa was sort of wrapped around you too. Scott gave you a quick glance, lips still puckered as he had been about to take another drink. You could feel his eyes on you, but you paid no attention to the way he seemed to zone out while in in mid-stare.

“You think you’re manly?  _**That’s** _ manly.”

Your voice snapped him out of his trance. Head turning, he spied a familiar face on the screen. He couldn’t remember why he was watching the news before, and he wished that he hadn’t left it sitting on that channel now that Tony Stark’s face was taking up most of the screen. He could only assume you were comparing the playboy’s pristine and straight-as-a-razor facial hair to his own. Not only did that bruise his ego, but the fact that people were still talking about the fight in Germany three months after his release from the Raft stung.

“Please. Stark’s an ass. . .” He scoffed.

“Yeah, but look at him. He’s smart—”

“I’m smart.”

“— and handsome —”

“I can be handsome!”

“And he’s loaded.”

“Okay, that’s not fair.” He sneered, but you thought it was an endearing look on him. Snickering, you patted at the wrinkled shirt he wore over his chest and under his robe. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn’t like men like Tony Stark. He was handsome, but you had a soft spot for men that were kind and a little dorky. And by a little, you meant a lot. You’d have friends over the years that lined up with your type, but none of them were as near to perfection as Scott.

You only wished you had the confidence to tell him that and not dance around the idea like you planned to do now.

“I’m kidding. Besides, I know someone that’s way better looking than him.” You could see in his rapidly changing expression that the faint purr behind your voice had gotten to him. His eyes widened a fraction, and his lips were drawn into a straight line. He gulped hard, eyes locked on yours as you leaned forward.

“Oh?” There was a distinct crack in his voice.

“Mhmm.” You drew closer still, until you were leaning so far forward that you were nearly in his lap. This was the distraction you needed; with his attention on you, he didn’t catch the hand that reached for his half-empty beer bottle.

You, on the other hand, caught everything. The hint of sweat muffled under the sharp sting of men’s soap, the aroma of booze on his breath, that glimmer of interest in his eyes when you dared to look at him. You’d always thought he was attractive, even back in your younger years when the two of you had been best friends. There was no ignoring that the two of you were still close, but feeling the way you did about him put a strain on you that you weren’t used to dealing with.

The way he looked at you, you wondered if he felt that same sense of tension.

“You. . . You wanna tell me who this handsome person is?” Scott remained still as a statue, not wanting to disturb your precarious position. Nodding, you motioned for his ear. His head tilted, cheeks turning a soft shade of pink when your breath ghosted across his skin. Another small wiggle forward, and your hand cupped his ear.

“Falcon’s kind of hot too.”

“ _(Y/N)_! Come on!” He reeled back, looking twice as disgruntled as before. First you told him that the enemy of his friend was attractive, then you had to go and admit that the man that had almost destroyed his behind was hot. He was nowhere near amused, but you had fallen into a fit of giggles that you could only stop with a drink. You tilted your head back and downed the rest of the beer you had snatched from him. A second later, he realized his beer was missing and groaned. “You’re the worst.”

“I know~”

Scott sighed and slouched against the back of the sofa, looking mildly hurt and thoroughly concerned. You had gotten up to fetch two more bottles from the carton left in the kitchen, and he gladly took the one you handed to him. You both sat in silence while the news continued to ramble on in the background, but that silence didn’t last for long.

“So, you’ve got a thing for Avengers?”

“I might.” You returned to your place beside him and tucked yourself against his side.

“Alright. What about Cap?”

You gave him a look and shook your head. “What?”

“You said Iron Brat and Falcon were attractive. What about Cap?” He said it so casually, and it took you a moment to realize he was talking about Captain America.

“You want to know if I find him cute?”

“Yeah.”

“Scottie, don’t even get me started on those muscles.” You pretended to swoon, hand fanning at your face. He snorted and, for once, didn’t disapprove. Steve was a handsome cut of man, even he had to admit that.

“Black Widow?”

“Gorgeous. I want to be her.” You admitted. What woman didn’t want to be that strong and elegant? In truth, you admired all of the Avengers despite what was happening. It was sad and discouraging to see them splitting up and dragging others into the fight with them.

“Hell,  **_I_ ** want to be her. Alright, one more. Just curious. What do you think about that Ant-Man guy?” He cleared his throat and turned his eyes back to the television. A commercial for toilet paper was playing, and you didn’t believe for a second that he was interested in it.

“Ant-Man? Oh! The one that got really big during that fight, right?” You paused to think, but it didn’t take you long to come up with an answer. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? He was right there!” He sounded indignant and offended.

“Yeah, and he had a helmet-thingie on! I couldn’t see his face! And I’m not you! I don’t go online and look up my man-crushes. Whatever’s under that helmet is a mystery to me.” You grumbled. Scott turned a darker shade of pink and huffed through his nose.

“I don’t have a man-crush.” He retorted.

“Pretty sure you do. Anyway, this ain’t fair. You gotta tell me who you find attractive now. And if you say Captain America——!”

“You.”

Your mouth hung open, leaving your tongue to feel sandpaper dry. He was staring at you again with an odd look of conviction that left you no room to doubt his sincerity. Flabbergast, you couldn’t even begin to think of something witty to say in return.

“What?”

“You asked me who I found attractive, so.  . .” He shrugged in a nonchalant way that contrasted severely with his opinion. You shook your head, as if that would dismiss the subject entirely. It didn’t, and you were forced to deal with the sudden knot that coiled in your gut. Flushed and still fairly speechless, you stammered.

“You’re just messing with me.” You argued.

“I’m not!”

“Then you’re more of a light-weight than I thought.” You made to snatch his beer away, but he pulled his hand back and gave you a childish pout. “Come on! You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? You’re gorgeous!” Again, he found the exact words to leave you feel like your body was make of jelly. The knot in your gut tightened, and your cheeks began to burn. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t stop his praise there. “I know you don’t see it, but I do every day that you’re here with me. I don’t know how you do it, but you shine. You have for as long as I’ve known you — which is a long time, by the way.”

“Scott.  . .” You almost asked him to stop but resisted the urge when he turned to face you completely. There was a tiny smile curling at the very corner of his lips, and you were realizing not for the first time that it would have been bliss to feel that smile against yours.

“I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I’m glad we met. I’m grateful you’ve given me a chance. You’re  _ still  _ giving me a chance.” He gave a breathy laugh and scratched at the base of his neck. “I know dealing with me while I’m stuck here hasn’t been easy on anyone, especially you.”

“Shut up. Like you said, we’ve been friends for a long time. And it’s not like you’re as much of a pain as you make yourself out to be. You’re a good guy, Scottie. I know I’ve been pestering you about why you’re stuck here in the first place, but it doesn’t matter to me. I can see how hard you’re trying to straighten out, and I know it’ll pay off. Never met someone as hardworking and sincere as you. And, for the record, you are handsome.”

You didn’t think it was possible for his features to light up any more than it already had, but you were proven wrong by the ear-to-ear grin that spread across his face. You were struck dumb by the cheer boyishness of his grin and didn’t realize that you had begun to smile as well.

“You think so? How handsome?”

“Mmmn, on a scale from one to ten, you’re a solid eight and a half.”

“It’s my eyes, isn’t it? I’ve always been told I have pretty eyes.” He batted his eyelashes in an exaggerated manner and tilted his head, drawing a giggle out of you. His eyes were pretty, you couldn’t deny that.

“It’s totally your eyes. They’re way prettier than Thor, Iron Man and Captain America’s combined. And you’re definitely cuter than some guy that wears a helmet.” You nodded firmly just emphasis just how honest you were being. His smile faltered for a second, but some of the glow still remained.

“You think I’m better looking than Ant-Man?”

“At the moment, yeah. If that helmet comes off and I see his face, I don’t know what’ll happen.” You threw him another, cheekier grin and suppressed the urge to laugh aloud when he rolled his eyes.

There was nothing quite like being told you were better than your superhero alter-ego. The ego boost was going to last him the rest of the night, and you didn’t mind that he would coast along with your words clutched to his chest.

“Thanks.”

“No problem! Now pass me the remote. We’re gonna find something good to watch.”


	2. First Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeze softly at those kudos and hits! Oh, wow. Okay! I wasn't expecting that. Even on Tumblr, the notes I got are still flooring me. You guys are the best! You reading this and liking it at all means loads to me, so thank you! Here's another part! Enjoy~

“Okay, okay! Next page. Come on!”

“Alright! Don’t rush me, dang it.” Under your hand, the pages of an aged yearbook were turned. They made the same sound they had back then, only there was a faint crackling as the stiff pages were forced to bend.

It had been sitting in a box for years now, and you had only just found it that morning. Calling Scott, you offered to bring it over and relive those horrifying moments in high school. Few could resist the urge to laugh at their past selves, and you two were no exception. In the span of thirty minutes, you had only gone through four pages. Each one was laid out in the usual fashion, a grid filled with low-resolution photographs whose color had faded over time. Or had they always looked that washed out? You couldn’t tell.

Most of the other students in that year were unknown to you, but you both blamed that on the fact that you had been quiet nerds. You hadn’t cared much for being a social butterfly, at least to the extent of parties and constantly going out. You liked to spend your time with close friends, and Scott had been one of them. Although, you were beginning to learn that he knew more about your old schoolmates than you did.

“Becky!” He gasped and pulled the book from your hand, prompting a curious and irritated frown.

“Who?”

“She was a senior that year! I remember having a huge crush on her. I wonder what she’s up to now.” He hummed thoughtfully and eyed the rest of the page, leaving you to question the sudden feeling of bitterness that punched you in the gut.

“You wanna look her up and have her look at this with you?”

“What? No! Just curious is all. Come on,” he scoffed and nudged you with an elbow, “don’t act like you didn’t have a crush or two when we were in school! If I remember right——”

“Don’t!”

“You liked.  . . **_him_ **! There he is!” He gave a triumphant laugh after flipping the pages and finding your specific class. You and Scott hadn’t been lucky enough to have matching teachers, but that had done nothing to your friendship. If anything, it had made you two all the more eager to see each other between classes and after school. Sadly, he knew your homeroom class and was able to point out the boy you had been crushing on for more than two years.

“Mark Pierce! Or Markie, as you liked to call him. _**Oh, Markie~ I love you so much, Markie-poo**! _ ” Scott’s voice rose in falsetto, mocking the way you used to sigh about the boy. Your cheeks burned with a combination of embarrassment and anger. You made to snatch the book, but he was already pressing his lips in an exaggerated manner to the page right where Mark’s picture sat. Any annoyance you felt was batted aside, a harsh bark of laughter escaping you before you had a chance to stop it. Your hands flew to your mouth after, and he stopped.

A moment of pause passed, and he put the book down. There was a disconcerted look dragging at his face.

“.  . . I just kissed a picture of Mark Pierce, didn’t I?” He, clearly, hadn’t thought that through.

You nodded and giggled behind your palm, but it sounded more like a snort.

“You forget I did that, and I won’t tease you anymore.” His eyes met yours, and you lowered your hands. He appeared every bit as serious as he sounded, but you could see that usual sparkle of mischief in his eyes. You liked that sparkle. It made up most of his charm, and you found you couldn’t rag on him about his mistake.

“Fair enough. But you know I got over that crush.” You pointed out. The pages were flipped again, his finger pointing at another portrait.

“Yeah, because you started dating him. Andrew.  . . What a _**jerk**_.”

“Scott, come on. All high school guys are jerks in one way or another.” You defended, pulling the book back towards you.

You peered down at the picture, mood slowly deflating. He had been cute when you two dated; dark hair that was slicked back, bright eyes, sporty build. Had a dimple on his chin that always appeared whenever he smiled, and he was always smiling. One of the popular guys, you were surprised he had shown any interest in you. You vaguely recalled being happy, but you knew better now.

“He was a super prick, though. He wouldn’t let you hang out with me! You guys dated for three months, and I didn’t see you once that whole time. It was a drag.” Scott slumped against the sofa, fingers scratching at his clean-shaven chin. “I missed you a lot back then, y’know?”

“I know. I didn’t really show it, but I missed you too. I wanted to hang out with you, but I wasn’t used to the whole dating thing. I didn’t know how to balance having a boyfriend and friends.” You shook your head, but your eyes remained on the boy’s picture.

“I don’t know what you saw in him.”

“Me either, honestly. Did I ever tell you that he ditched me at prom?” Mention of the story had him sitting up again.

“ _ **What?** _ No way.”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t even want to go!”

“I know. I told him that, but he said he wanted to make it special for us. Got all dressed up, was nervous as hell. He pulls up, meets my parents, drives off with me. We get to the school, and we talked a little. It was nice at first. Then he’s gone. Disappeared. Wasn’t like one of those cliche things where I find him kissin’ someone else. He’s just gone. Don’t know if he did it on purpose or if something happened, but it sure as hell amused some of those snarky bitches that liked picking on me.” You scowled and snapped the book closed.

You didn’t need to look to see that Scott had wiggled closer. You felt the warmth and the shifting of the sofa, and caught the usual scent of masculine body wash.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before? You made it sound like you’d had a great time.”

“I wanted you to think I’d had fun so you wouldn’t be upset at him. And I was kind of busy crying my eyes out. I didn’t want you to see or hear me like that.” You shrugged.

“Awh, come on. I’ve seen you cry before!”

“Not like that, and not over some guy. It was stupid.”

“Nothing that upsets you is ever stupid, ( Y/N ).” He wrapped an arm around your middle and leaned in to give you a reassuring squeeze. The tiniest of smiles pulled at your lips, but it vanished just as quickly as it came. “But it was probably a good idea that you didn’t tell me. I would have found him and kicked his ass.”

“Please! You might be built now for whatever weird reason, but you were weak as heck back then! But I appreciate the thought. I’d have liked that.” You leaned your head against his shoulder and relished in the feeling it gave you. Any feelings you may have had for the people in your past relationships, they were dull compared to the way Scott had begun to make you feel.

You were enjoying having his strong arm around you when he pulled it away.

“Wait, so does that mean you never got to dance at prom?”

“Nope. Ended up going home before it ended. Didn’t see a point in staying.” You didn’t mind that you had missed the chance. Scott, on the other hand, seemed appalled at the skipped opportunity. Leaning forward, he grabbed for your phone.

“Hey!”

“Hang on!” He placed a hand on your shoulder to keep you at bay when you reached for the device. With one hand, he managed to find a source for music and turned the volume up as far as it could possibly go. Once that was situated, he set the phone down on the table in front of the sofa and rose to his feet.

With the heat as intense as it was, he had opted for shorts, giving you a view of his hairy legs and the tracker attached to his ankle. Another two months had passed, and you could tell that being bound to his home still bummed him out. Part of you wanted to ask how he kept himself sane, but you were being pulled to your feet.

“You can’t be serious.” You could tell what his plan was now that one of his hands had placed itself on your waist. Dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and walking around barefoot wouldn’t make this a romantic dance, but the idea was sweet.

“I’ve never been more serious.” He said in a severe tone. You snickered and let your hand rest against his free one. That goofy smile of his broke out, and you swore your heart had melted.

“You didn’t even go to prom that night, did you?”

“Heck no! It was probably lame.” He shook his head and began to move, surprisingly, in time with the music.

“Why not? I knew a few people that wanted to ask you to go with ‘em.” You peered up, noticing a slight dusting of pink across his cheeks. He didn’t turn his eyes away from you, but there was a sort of burning intensity behind them that made you glance elsewhere. The speed at which he could go from silly and charming to handsome and rugged was frightening.

“The person I wanted to go with was busy.” Was his only answer. You didn’t want to think yourself a hopeless romantic, but you did feel your heart clench at statement. Suppressing a smile, you leaned your head forward until your forehead bumped against his chest.

The music coming from your phone continued, guiding the both of you into a gentle sway. Over time, the space between you lessened. Whether it was due to the trance the music put you in or because it was something you both wanted didn’t matter. All of your fingers on one hand became linked with his, his thumb rubbing at your knuckles. Your cheek was pressed near to where his heart beat, each steady thrum sounding in your ear. The hand that had once rested on your hip was now placed on the small of your back, bringing you closer still. You could feel his nose nestled into your hair, calm breaths tickling at your ear. All of it — the music, him and your blossoming feelings — couldn’t have been more perfect. Who needed prom when the man you were steadily falling for was dorky enough to start dancing with you in the middle of his living room?

Without warning, a familiar feeling grabbed you. You recognized it from those moments when your crush would notice you, or when Andrew had held your hand that one time. It was a resounding pang that started from your heart and rippled out to the rest of your body. If you acknowledged it, you knew you’d feel it again and again. But, at the same time, you knew there was no denying it, not when it was this strong.

                                              ‘ _I love him.  . ._ ’

Or, rather, you were feeling the beginnings of love.

You thought back to that moment when he claimed he found you attractive, and the pang was felt again. You squeezed at his hand and wondered if he had only said it to appease you. You hoped not because now all you wanted was to have him look at you the way he had when he told you all those wonderfully sweet things.

“( Y/N ).  . . ?” His voice was low and questioning, pulling you from the quagmire of thoughts that threatened to swallow you whole. You didn’t realize until then that you had shifted. Your cheek was no longer pressed to his chest, and his nose had moved away from your hair. In fact, it was no less than a centimeter away from yours. Absentmindedly, you let them nudge together. You had been so preoccupied with your thoughts that you didn’t notice how still you had become, or how rapid your heartbeat now was.

Both of you stood on some imaginary precipice, knowing full well that the dark waters below might sweep you away if you weren’t careful. You had clung to those cliff sides for years, convincing yourselves that being friends was good enough. He hardly thought he deserved you after all the messing up he had done, and you couldn’t quite see why he would want you in the first place. That, and you weren’t sure you had a rightful place in the little family he had with Cassie.

Yet there you stood, warm and jittery with anticipation. You wanted to kiss him, and this wasn’t the first time you’d felt the urge. As teenagers, it had pounced you and threatened to tear you apart. You were able to shake the desire off back then. Now it was an ache that you knew wouldn’t leave you be.

Taking that leap, you knew it could end one of two ways; with him feeling the same, or you having your mind and heart crushed. Both could ruin your friendship, but you wanted the option that would lead to something even better.

Some risks weren’t worth taking, but any that concerned Scott were. You plucked up your courage, gliding the hand that wasn’t latched onto his up his chest and towards the back of his neck. The dark strands of his hair along the base of his skull slid between your fingers, and you could have swore you felt him shiver. _**That** _ was far more enticing than you thought it would be, and it only egged you on.

Any space that sat between you was gone now. A gentle push of his hand put a slight arch in your back, chests flush now. He leaned, motivated by the gentle scratching of your fingernails against his neck. His breath hitched, a soft groan sounding.

He was close! So very close, but——

                                                   —— the soft and slow song he had picked had finished! A new song, one that wasn’t near as gentle, began to ricochet around the room. Your phone wasn’t as powerful as a set of full blown speakers, but the sudden snap in volume and abrupt change of pace startled the living daylights out of you and Scott. You felt a jolt up your spine, and you reckoned he did too.

Quick as you could, the two of you parted. Your heart was beating for an entirely different reason now, and it took you patting at your chest and breathing deep to calm yourself.

“Holy shit.” You wheezed and doubled over with a hand on the back of the sofa.

“You’re tellin’ me! Sorry about that.” He grinned sheepishly and moved around to hand you your phone. You cringed and grabbed it, cancelling the song.

You had been relieved at the sound of silence, only to realize that the only thing occupying the air now was a palpable awkwardness. You both remained standing, but neither of you dared to look at the other. Only seconds ago, you had been nose-to-nose, ready to kiss and fall into whatever mess it may have lead to.

Now you couldn’t have felt more silly.

“Hey, uh.  . . Look, that was——”

“Forget it.” A massive wall of insecurity crashed into you from behind, and all you could think was that he wanted to apologize for almost making a mistake. You fidgeted with the phone in your hands and began to backwards step towards the hall where the front door lay. Once again, you need to gather your courage. Eyes up, you spotted him approaching. Frantic, you hurried towards the door.

“( Y/N )! Where you are going?” He took chase, but was forced to stop at the door. He glanced down at the cuff wrapped around his leg and muttered a nasty curse under his breath. You had already reached the sidewalk, eyes stinging and throat knotted. “Hey, come on! Come back!”

“I’ll see you, Scottie.”

But you didn’t, not for a few weeks at least.


	3. Texts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little less on word-count because it's mostly text messages. I hope it doesn't feel too rushed, but come on — you guys almost smooched!
> 
> Also, thanks again-again for the support! I'm still floored that this is doing well at all. I love and appreciate the heck out of you guys! Even if all you do is read it, you're amazing! Remember, don't be afraid to leave a small request if you think you've got a cute idea for something that Scott and the Reader can to while he's stuck under house arrest.

For the fourth time that morning, you heard your phone buzzing on your bedside table. One eye, puffy with sleep, was peeled open with great reluctance. Sleep had been hard to come by for the last week or so, though it had been so hard to catch that you weren’t sure it had been a week. Could have been two for all you knew.

Maybe, just maybe, if you ignored it, the buzzing would stop.

You waited.

The buzzing ceased.

Sighing heavily into your pillow, you turned and gathered your sheets up to your chin. Sunlight was beginning to filter through the thin slits between your blinds, even thinner curtains glowing a warm and encouraging orange. Through the faint buzzing of distant traffic, you could hear a bird chirping. It wasn’t unpleasant or annoying, but soft and charming. You knew you would have to drag your sorry self out of bed eventually, but you wanted to remain sunken into the warm, body-shaped print you left in your mattress.

It was the weekend, after all, and you had nothing to do.

While falling into that half-awake but half-dozing state, you pondered your options. You could take a walk. The weather seemed nice, and you hadn’t walked for the sake of walking in a while. Or, better yet, you could order pizza and stay inside. Opening a window here and there would almost be like being outside.

You were about to come up with a third option when you heard it again.

That constant, deep buzzing.

Groaning, you flung yourself around again and reached for your phone. In your fit, you knocked it off the table and onto the floor. Fortunately, it was still attached to its charger. Pulling the cord, you reeled it up onto the bed and used your thumb to flick the screen to life.

Five texts, all from the one person you assumed it would be: Scott.

Part of you knew that you shouldn’t ignore him. He was your closest friend, not to mention he had to be quite literally dying of boredom thanks to his house arrest. Two years wasn’t a long time at all for some people. It could go by in a flash depending on who you were and what you did, but it was common knowledge that Scott’s home didn’t have much to offer. It was small, slightly cramped and lonely. He liked to remind you of that whenever you refused to come over, often with a childish whine and a pout that you could hear over the phone.

On the other hand, another part of you couldn’t ignore how knotted your stomach became whenever you thought about the last time you’d visited. The almost kiss and the fact that you were disappointed it hadn’t happened haunted you. More than once, you had awoken from a fantastically vivid dream where it had happened. Lips were locked, breathy sighs were shared and — on those nights when your imagination was especially wanting — clothes were shed. Nearly every time you woke, you found yourself growing more and more jealous of your dream-self. She didn’t run away the same way you had, and you hadn’t even had the pleasure of feeling his lips on yours.

You were torn between being the friend he needed and wanting to save yourself from shame. Did you answer his texts and risk him asking about the moment, or had the two of you come to a quiet, mutual agreement that neither of you should speak of it?

There was no way for you to find out if you continued ignore him.

Rolling onto your back, phone in hand, you read over the messages he had sent you that morning.

**[ Scottie ]**

                  Are you going to talk to me?

                  It’s been a week and a half! Come on! Please? Pretty please?   
                  Please, please, please, please, please, plaese, please?   
                  You’re going to get annoyed and answer me eventually.

                  I miss you.

You didn’t put it past an immature man like Scott to plead in the most childish way possible, but that last line was a blow to your resolve. Try as you might, you couldn’t deny that you missed him and the dorkiness that had grown on you since childhood. The two of you were completely content with moments of utter silence while in each other’s company, but this was different and wrong. You could only recall a small handful of days recently when the two of you hadn’t talked, and all you could remember was feeling that those days had been crummy.

Besides, he had done nothing wrong. It was your wandering thoughts and the atmosphere that had you pulling him closer, so any awkwardness that may have sprung up between the two of you laid on your shoulders — that’s what you believed. Scott didn’t deserve to be left in the dark because you were embarrassed about your feelings.

“You’re too damn cute, you know that?” You spoke to your phone as if it were a direct connection to the man. Glad that it wasn’t, you began to type out a mess of messages hoping that he wouldn’t be overly peeved at you.

          **[ You ]**

                  Didn’t know how long it had been, sorry   
                  I miss you too, dork

             **[ Scottie ]**

                  You’re alive!

             **[ You ]**

                  Barely

**[ Scottie ]**

                  After you took off, you didn’t reply to me.   
                  I thought you were mad at me.   
                  You have to come over again.   
                  I’m miserable over here.

You bit down on your lip and tried not to giggle. Half of you felt guilty for leading him to believe that you were upset at him, but the other half was amused at the fact that you could hear the way the last two messages sounded. All you could imagine was him flopped over and groaning.

             **[ You ]**

                  You sure you want me to come over?

             **[ Scottie ]**

                  Yeah, why wouldn’t I?

For a whole two minutes, you could only think of one reason why he wouldn’t want you around. Cheeks flushed at the thought, you took a moment to carefully word what you wanted to say. Bringing up the subject could very well end in things never being the same, but he couldn’t be so thick that he didn’t realize what had nearly happened.

But before you could think to send a reply, he gave you another.

    **[ Scottie ]**

                  It’s because I almost kissed you, isn’t it?   
                  I’m sorry about that.

Your heart sank, but you had to keep things light for his sake.

**[ You ]**

                  Why are you sorry?  
                   Is the idea of kissing me that bad?

 

**[ Scottie ]**

                  Hell no!  
                  I thought I freaked you out.  
                   I mean, we’ve been friends since forever.

_Oh._ Here it comes. You wanted to pretend that you were prepared for this, but you weren’t. Nothing could prepare a person for rejection.

            **[ Scottie ]**

                  But you’re that hot friend that you think about kissing all the time but never do.  
                   I wanted to do it!  
                   If we hadn’t had the shit scared out of us, I would have.

You were sure that at this point you had forgotten what air was and that you needed to breathe. Laying in an already warm bed and feeling incredibly flushed, it was growing difficult just to stay in bed.

             **[ You ]**

                  You’re talking out your ass again

**[ Scottie ]**

                  I’m not, I swear! Come on, when have I ever lied to you like that?  
                   I’m the one that must be a drag to kiss.  
                   Never seen you run like that before.

Ouch. Seemed you weren’t the only one feeling self-conscious. Knowing that, you felt your heart ache. If you had been fretting for a week and a half over it, you couldn’t imagine that he had taken it any better.

             **[ You ]**

                  That’s not why I ran. I thought you would be grossed out

**[ Scott ]**

                  So both of us wanted to kiss, but we thought the other person would hate it?

**[ You ]**

                  And it took us a week to talk about it.

**[ Scottie ]**

                  Give me some leeway. Only dated one woman.   
                  Ended up getting married to and divorced from her.  
                  I’m not good at this.

You had to cover your mouth just to keep from giggling too obnoxiously.

      **[ You ]**

                  I’m no better. You know all my exes were asshats

             **[ Scottie ]**

                  Hey, that’s my word.

You had to wonder now why you were so anxious about mentioning that night when Scott was a natural at smoothing things over. He was too laid-back for his own good sometimes, but you had to be grateful that now was the opportune time for his quick wit and goofy sense of humor. Once again, you had to feel glad and grateful that the two of you had grown up together.

             **[ Scottie ]**

                  Can I ask you something?

             **[ You ]**

                  Sure

             **[ Scottie ]**

                  If I tried again, would you be mad?

             **[ You ]**

                  Tried again to kiss me or dance with me?

             **[ Scottie ]**

                  Both?

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed for one of your extra pillows and pressed it to your face. Squealing loudly, you tried to exhaust the wiggly, elated feelings that had exploded behind your abdomen, but there was no getting rid of them. Glee, for the moment, had become a bone-deep part of you.

**[ You ]**

                  No. I won’t be mad.   
                  And I’m sorry for the whole not replying for a week thing.   
                  I was scared I ruined our friendship.

Scott’s next reply was short but sweet, giving you all the reassurance you needed.

             **[ Scottie ]**

_Ruin it._


	4. Approval

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you've all been so kind and patient, but I'm still sorry for making you wait! I know a week isn't a long time but ;; Pacing feels a little odd to be, but let me know if I'm just being a silly. Thanks again for the kudos, kind messages and ideas! I appreciate every single one of you!
> 
> @ Heather; I see your ideas, and one of them happens to be perfect for the next chapter, since Cassie is there! Thank you, sweet bean!

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this nervous.

Wait, no. You could vividly remember one time in particular when you felt something _close_ to this, but could safely say now that it seemed silly compared to what _was_ happening and _could_ happen once you reached Scott’s home.

Only half an hour ago, the two of you had briefly touched on the fact that the kiss you nearly shared had been sought out by him just as much as it had been by you. Running from it because you feared it would be seen as a mistake had _been_ a mistake in itself, but you thanked your lucky stars that Scott was the type of man to roll with the punches. If he had been hurt by it, he didn’t show it. Although, considering you had told him another try wouldn’t upset you, he likely didn’t feel any sort of hurt now.

You, on the other hand, felt nothing but agitated nerves. Everything inside you felt like it was squirming. Your mind refused to settle down, thinking of a million and one ways it might happen. Would it be cliche? He could trip, and you both would fall into a giggling heap before he laid one on you. Or would it be romantic? You didn’t dare think of another scenario. If you did, you knew that your face would end up embarrassingly red — as if the brisk walk from your place to his wasn’t already doing that.

Strolling past the shopfront sitting snugly on the first floor, you made a sharp turn and stopped at the short set of worn, wooden steps that would lead up to his door.

Part of you wanted to hesitate and reconsider, that familiar sense of doubt resurfacing. You knew now that things were different between the two of you, but there was still the probability that things wouldn’t end well. What if your feelings for him were stronger than what he felt for you? Or, worse still, would getting into a relationship with a man under house arrest violate some law you both were unaware of?

For a whole minute, you stood on the sidewalk and fidgeted, oblivious to the man that was staring at you from the open door.

“( Y/N )?”

“Scott!” You sounded surprised to see him, which made no sense seeing as how he lived there. He followed that same train of thought and laughed, urging a relieved smile out of you. That sound, you had come to learn, was your favorite. “Hey.  . .”

“Hey.” He greeted you with a sharp exhale and a small wave, his laughter going just as quickly as it came. The goofy man was replaced with someone softer, shyer and uncertain. “Took you long enough.”

“Someone sounds impatient.” Somehow, you managed to speak past the lump in your throat. With slow steps forward, you made your way closer. Up one step, then another. You heard the wood creak under your shoes, but it wasn’t half as deafening as the sound of your own heart beating or the shallow breaths you dragged in. You thought your heart might stop once you were close, but hitting that last step and standing nearly flush with him only made it drum all the harder.

“Can you blame me?” Scott remained where he was, never budging an inch even as you approached. To say he had thought about the kiss was an understatement — he had longed for it, daydreamed about it, wondered just how many times he could kiss you in your lifetime. Not enough, he figured, but he was eager to start.

“I can definitely blame you.” You weren’t sure where your confidence had come from, or if it was considered confidence at all. It could have been nothing more than the comfortable feeling he had always given you, like the world itself had decided that there were no two people more suited for each other. There was history there, good and bad, and it bound you to him indefinitely. At least, you hoped that was the case.

Unable to help yourself, you placed a hand against his chest. The muscles under his shirt shifted, and you could have swore that he was flexing for your sake. Another giggle threatened to leave you, but the sound died in your throat as the small gap between her grew smaller still. Scott’s hand pressed to yours, keeping it pinned in place as the other settled on your hip. Any air you had in your lungs vanished. Your chest tightened, eyes flicking to his lips.

“Totally forgot what we were talking about. What am I being blamed for?” He didn’t sound invested in the conversation, and you knew for a fact that you weren’t. Your mind was swimming, the smallest ripple ruining any clear thought you might have had.

“I have no idea.  . .”

“So we’re doing this?” Scott’s tone was glowing with hope, and suddenly every part of him looked like it had been caressed by the sun. His eyes glimmered, his smile sparkled. He was beautiful, and you could hardly believe that you were the one he wanted to kiss.

“I kind of thought you’d have done it already, Scottie.” You arched a brow. The challenge you laid out for him was snatched in the blink of an eye, that innocent and hopeful glint in his hazel eyes darkening ever so slightly. The change put a shiver in your spine.

Unlike that night a week ago, he refused to hesitate. You had taken the lead before, and a tiny portion of his pride wanted to be the one to initiate this time around — if not to make himself seem braver than he felt, then to give you the fluttery feelings you were already giving him.

Head tilted, eyes falling half-closed, Scott leaned in. His nose nudged innocently against yours, giving you the chance to reconsider. When you didn’t pull away, he dared to part his lips a fraction and graze them feather-light against yours. You sucked in a breath, hoping you wouldn’t become the mess you knew you would.

“Daddy!”

“Ah, shit.  . .” He didn’t part from you the way he had when you were startled. His hands remained on you, but he peered over your shoulder to find a car parked in front of his door. A blur of motion darted from the car, and you stepped away knowing who it was. Before he was was rammed into bodily by his daughter, Scott passed you a sheepish smile. There was a hint of a question behind his gaze.

                    ‘ _Are you leaving?_ ’

You shook your head. That mistake wasn’t going to be made a second time, and it wasn’t as if you didn’t enjoy Cassie’s company. She was surprisingly intelligent for a child, not to mention she was odd in the best way possible. Your second attempt at kissing had been interrupted yet again, but there was no getting upset when it involved his family.

“Hey, peanut! I thought you weren’t coming over until later?” He scooped the girl up into his arms and gave her a loving squeeze but pointed hard eyes towards the car. A head of soft, golden curls popped into view.

“Hey, Scott. I’m really sorry. I know I said I’d bring her after dinner, but something came up. You’re not busy, are you?” Her attention went from her ex-husband to you. You stiffened; their divorce was final, you knew that, but there was still something incredibly awkward about wanting to kiss Scott in front of someone he used to be married to. That, and you may have been the one convincing Scott those many years ago that he ought to date her. Looking back, you wondered why you’d done that in the first place.

“No, it’s alright. ( Y/N ) doesn’t mind hanging out with both of us, right?”

“( Y/N ) is here!” Cassie squealed. Your face broke out in a wide, beaming grin. Reaching out, you softly tweaked a lock of her dark hair between your fingers.

“I never mind hanging out with you two.” It wasn’t a lie. Time with her usually meant something interesting would happen, plus you were keen on seeing Scott at his happiest. Maggie sighed.

“Good. Glad to hear it. Maybe I should pay ( Y/N ) for the double babysitting job?” There was a playful smirk on her face that got a surprised bark of laughter out of you. Scott, hurt by the comment, pouted.

“ _Not_ funny. What’s with you guys calling me a baby all the time?” He held Cassie with one arm and reached for the bag Maggie handed to him.

“Have fun, sweetie.” Cassie was given a quick kiss on the cheek before her mother packed herself into the car and drove off. All three of you lifted your hands in farewell, watching the tailend of the car disappear around the corner.

“Why don’t you get inside and put your bag away? Dad’s gotta talk to ( Y/N ) for a second.” The girl was set down on her feet and given a pat to her head. Beaming brightly, Cassie nodded.

“Okay!” She grabbed her bag and scurried away, leaving the adults at the door. Her heavy footfalls could be heard going up the stairs and over the floor above your heads, meaning this was likely the only moment you two would have alone.

“I’m sorry——”

“Don’t be! Scott, come on. She’s your daughter. Like I’m going to be upset.” You rolled your eyes and gave his arm a shove.

“I know, but we keep getting interrupted.” He moped.

“It’ll happen when it happens.” You assured him, hands finding their way to his shoulders. Pulling him close, you slid your fingers against his neck and played with the short, dark hairs that had begun to stand on end. Scott melted, a soft groan sounding in his throat. You were quickly discovering that he was fond of having his hair played with.

“What if it _doesn’t_ happen?”

“One way or another, you’re gonna get that kiss. But for now.  . .” You trailed off quietly, letting your lips press to his cheek. It warmed under your kiss, and it took you everything not to break out into a goofy grin when he let loose a shaky sigh. “Will that do?”

“Actually, uh.  . . I think I might need another one. I didn’t really feel that one.” He cleared his throat and scratched the spot where your lips had kissed. You wanted to throw him a look, but decided against it. You should have guessed that he would be needy, not that you had an issue with it. If he wanted another kiss, you’d gladly oblige.

Cupping his stubbly cheeks, you placed a softer and sweeter peck just under his eye. All you really wanted was to yank him down to your level and show him just how badly you wanted to have your lips against his, but it hardly seemed appropriate with his daughter hanging around.

“Felt that one.” He nuzzled at your cheek and lowered his voice. “But the second I know we’re alone, you’re so gonna get it.”

“You’re all over the ‘ruining our friendship’ thing, aren’t you?” It was both a relief and highly frustrating. Your feelings had sat at the very bottom of your gut for years, and the only reason you hadn’t acted on them was because you couldn’t see him having the same feelings for you. Now that it was clear he might, you wished you’d said something to him about it sooner.

“I missed my chance with you before. I don’t want to miss it again.” His voice was heavy with sincerity, and you felt yourself being crushed underneath it. You wanted to assure him that he had every chance in the world now, but a sweet voice at the top of the stairs cut you off.

“Daddy, I think my bag zipper is stuck.”

“Alright, I got it.” He gave her a reassuring smile before turning his eyes to you again. “Mind keeping her company for a bit?”

“Not at all. As long as she doesn’t mind.” You hadn’t been around enough to become the aunt-level friend, but Cassie’s face still lit up at the idea of spending time with you. You had only reached the top step when she grabbed your hand and yanked you into the living room, where both of you collapsed onto the sofa.

“You two behave!” Scott called from the other room.

“No promises!” Cassie shouted back. You heard Scott laugh, but the sound was interrupted by a gentle cough. Attention trained on the girl, you noticed she was beginning to make herself comfortable in the corner of the sofa, arms hugging at a small throw pillow. She peeked over the edge of it, dark eyes holding noticeable intent. Out of curiosity and courtesy, you wanted to ask if something was on her mind. Fortunately for you, she was two steps ahead. “I saw you kissing daddy’s face.”

Or not so fortunately.

“Oh. I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have——” You stammered and sputtered, everything from your hairline to your neck turning a flustered pink.

“Why not? Do you not like him?” Her gaze was piercing, boring holes into your mind and causing your thoughts to seep out.

“I do like him!” You countered quick as you could. It occured to you then that you had never said it aloud before. The words made your lips and tongue feel odd, like you were tasting something new for the first time and weren’t certain on how to feel about it. The thought as plenty sweet and made you feel giddy, but you couldn’t know that it was something he wanted to hear.

Cassie seemed relieved to hear it, on the other hand.

“Oh, good! Daddy talks about you a lot, you know.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone. Taken aback, you could hardly think of something witty to say in return. Cassie, noticing how quiet you were, went on. “He said you were his best friend in school.”

“I was, yeah. We’ve known each other a long time.” The fond memories motivate you into speaking again. “Met in third grade, but we didn’t get along at first.”

“Really? You didn’t like daddy?” She sounded both hurt and confused.

“Actually, he didn’t like me. I used to be a lot faster as a kid, and I beat him in a race once. He didn’t take it well, so he made me race him again.” You snorted at the thought. Cassie was enthralled, leaning forward and hugging the pillow tighter.

“Did you win again?”

“Nope. Halfway there, I tripped and skinned my knee real bad. Ended up crying a lot, had to go to the nurse. Got it cleaned up, nurse slapped a bandage on it. No big deal. He was waiting outside for me. I thought he was going to laugh at me for getting hurt, but he ended up apologizing for being a spoiled sport before. Even helped me walk back to class. He was a sweetheart, even then.  . .”

“Are you going to date him now?” She scratched at her nose and lowered her voice to an ineffective whisper.

“What?”

“Are you going to be daddy’s girlfriend?” She was so forthright with the question that you were dumbfounded yet again.

“Well, I mean—— I’ve thought about it.”

“You should.” Cassie rubbed her face against the pillow, then flopped it flat in her lap. “You have my blessing.”

The sound that came out of you was somewhere between a choke and a laugh. A blessing from an eleven-year-old — you never thought you’d see the day. She looked so honest, too, all bright eyes and smiling just like her father.

“I have your blessing, huh?”

She nodded. “Yep. When mommy called to tell him I was coming over yesterday, he told me you might be here too. Mommy said you were spending too much time with him lately, but I think it’s a good thing.”

Any smile you’d worn beforehand was gone now. Odd; why would Maggie say that? The smallest of knots lodged itself in your gut next to the ones Scott had given you, and you had a feeling it would remain there for a long while. That worrying thought aside, you were interested in hearing Cassie’s opinion more than someone’s ex-wife.

“Why’s it a good thing?” You wondered.

“Daddy’s a good guy. I know he is. He can be silly sometimes, but I don’t want him to be lonely. I can’t be here all the time because of school, so he needs someone here. Right? Friends are good. A girlfriend would be better.” She nodded in a sage-like manner. How wise of her to say so.

“Well, for the record, I think you’re the bestest friend he could have.” You pointed out. Her expression changed again. You didn’t think it could get any brighter, but it did.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah! _Please_ , you’re the most important person to him! Scott’s always telling me about you and how great a kid you are.” You could see her cheeks redden under your praise. “I know he loves you a whole lot. Every time you’re here, I think it makes things easier on him. So I should be thanking you, really. Pretty sure he’s got the best daughter in the world.”

Leaning forward, you gave Cassie a sneaky grin. “So how about we make a deal? We gotta do everything we can to make these two years great for him, agreed?”

“Agreed! Do you wanna spit and shake on it?”

“N.  . . No, I’m good. How about we just pinky promise?” You stuck out your smallest finger, slightly curled, and waited for her to take it. Cassie linked hers with your own and gave it a firm shake.

“And I know exactly what we can do today!”


	5. Fort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever read your own writing and think 'why does this not feel right?' Thought that for most of this chapter, but I hope it's still fun for you guys to read! And thank you, heather, for the idea! I love and appreciate you guys!

When Cassie said she wanted to build a fort, you imagined something simple. Couch cushions, blankets, pillows and a chair or two from the kitchen — the basics. That was how you had done it as a child, and you would admit exclusively to yourself that you had been eager to show off your fort building abilities.

What you got in the end was far more elaborate. The only thing you could think to compare it to was an anthill. It was deeply complex and winding, yet there was an intricate purposefulness behind each and every path. The core of it sat in the living room as anticipated, two paths branching off in opposite directions. Those same paths forked and lead to other rooms, while others looped around just in case you got lost. Cassie and Scott had done that for your benefit, giggling to themselves about the likelihood of you losing your way. You had rolled your eyes and told them then that you wouldn’t get lost, not knowing that they had something so extravagant planned.

You regretted that now.

Crawling through one of the many tunnels, you found yourself in the bathroom for the third time. When the cardboard used to construct the paths was covered by sheets, it was hard to tell which direction you had gone in. Left was right, back was forward and the rooms you were familiar with were suddenly gone.

You were about to give up on finding the living room and make your own exit when something grabbed at your ankle. A sharp spike in adrenaline pushed a high, startled yelp from your lips, the leg that hadn’t been grabbed kicking backwards purely out of instinct. The bottom of your socked foot connected with something solid. You felt it give, and your ankle was free.

“Ow. . .” The pained groan sounded much louder in the cramped tunnel and was recognizable once you’d stopped panicking.

“Scottie?” You struggled to turn, only to find him curled up on his side, hands over his nose. “Oh, no! I’m sorry!”

“That was one hell of a kick. Totally deserved it.” In spite of the pain thrumming in his face, he laughed. “Thought it would be funny if I scared you.”

“Yeah, well — good job. You got your ass kicked for it.”

“I didn’t get my ass kicked! You got a lucky shot on me, that’s all.” He sat up as much as anyone could in a short, squat tunnel and wiggled his nose. You noted how adorable that little motion was and giggled to yourself.  
“Mhmm. Keep tellin’ yourself that.” You inched towards the injured man and patted at his cheek. He shot you a glare and mumbled under his breath. You couldn’t quite hear all of what he said, but you thought you heard the word hope in there somewhere. “What?”

“Uh. . . I said I was hoping you’d come help us with the rest of the fort.” A small, playful smirk quirked at the very corner of his lips. “Unless you wanted to find someplace a little more quiet to——”

“Not a chance.” A whole hand was pressed to his mouth to keep that tempting suggestion from being finished. “Did you forget your daughter is here?”

“No!” He shook your hand off and whined. “Come on, it’ll be quick! Just one kiss, that’s all I’m asking for.”

“Sounds more like begging to me.” You teased. He raised a brow and leaned forward.

“You into that?” The moment he uttered those words, your entire being became red. Open mouthed, you tried to think of something witty to say. Instead, you slapped at his arm and pushed past him. “( Y/N ), relax! I was kidding, I swear!”

“You’re a mess, Scott. Where’s the way out?” You began to crawl blindly again, until a streak of light hit the floor in front of your hands. Cassie’s head peeked in, a broad grin stretched across her face.

“There you are!”

“Here I am! At least I know you’ll come to my rescue, Cassie.” Sighing heavily, you pulled yourself out of the fort. You didn’t realize how stifling it had been in there until a rush of cool air hit the sweat on your brow.

“Can you help me build the fort in daddy’s room?”

“Yeah, sure! Let me just——!” You were cut off by a sudden gasp as you were yanked back. Scott scrambled over you, bursting from the end of the unfinished tunnel at such an exaggerated speed that he almost yanked the sheets draped over the opening.

“Wait! Uh, let’s — let’s not go into my room.” He coughed, clumsily got to his feet, then came to stand in front of his bedroom door. It was yanked closed, his body keeping both you and Cassie out. “Remember the rules, sweet pea?”

“I remember.” She murmured quietly. Any stubbornness she might have felt was dismissed when she turned back to you. “Oh! You didn’t see the main fort!”

“Yeah, I did.”

She shook her head and got to her hands and knees, wiggle-worming her way into the tunnel. “Nuh-uh! You only saw it when we finished building the outside. You never got to see the inside. Come on.”

“Alright, I’m coming.” Reluctantly, you agreed to tag along. You had gotten lost in their winding fortress several times already, and you weren’t looking to do it again. But, before that, you lingered and turned a curious look towards Scott. “You were in a hurry to keep us out.”

“It’s my bedroom! It’s. . . private.” He grumbled, arms crossed over his chest. You smiled sweetly, but he saw the hint of mischief you tried and failed to hide behind it.

“No girls allowed?” You wondered.

“No girls allowed!” Scott sounded no different now than he had as a boy, refusing to let you into his room for the same, lame reasons. Only, this time, you shrugged rather than arguing.

“Alright. Guess that means kissing in your room is out of the question.” Quick to turn, you left the man stammering as you barely navigated their labyrinthine home. He was behind you soon enough, voice bounding in the small space.

“You don’t count! You’re not a girl.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone. Stopping, you threw him a look over your shoulder. “I meant you’re not a girl because you’re a woman. A gorgeous, funny, smart——”

“Sure, sure.”

“—— sassy woman with a great ass, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes and suppressed the urge to grin. “Language, Scottie.”

“It’s okay. We have a swear jar now.” Cassie piped up just as you meandered your way into the living room fort. 

Several things vied for your attention; the string of lights draped along the outer edge of the roof, the nest of pillows and blankets tucked against one corner and the large bowl of popcorn sitting at the center as well as the mention of a swear jar. Not wanting the subject to be dismissed, you hurriedly crawled into the pile of pillows.

“A swear jar, huh? How full is it?”

“Two dollars.” She sounded proud, until you gave her a skeptical look. “We only started it a month ago.”

“You got lucky on that second dollar.” Scott scowled. He came to occupy the spot beside you, his arm looping around your shoulder. You were pulled in close, your head comfortably tucked against his shoulder. He had always been the type of man that failed to back down and shy away when he was dead set on an idea, but you couldn’t have anticipated that he would so openly pursue the budding relationship you two happened upon. Not that you were complaining.

“Why was she lucky?” You pulled the popcorn bowl closer and popped a few pieces into your mouth, not minding in the least when Cassie curled up against your legs.

“He was on the phone with mommy. He yelled, and I heard him say a bad word.”

“Scott!” You shook your head with disappointment, earning a pout from the man you poked fun at.

The rest of the day was spent the same way. It had been quite sometime since you were last together, telling silly stories and talking. And the more you thought about it, the less you felt like things had changed. Scott was still his charming and goofy self with you, and you couldn't have been more grateful for that fact. You had thought that things would be awkward, that everything would feel forced and out of place thanks to the rise in your want for something more. There was no way for you to know for certain, but you reckoned it was because he wanted the same thing.

You saw no reason to shake the chance off, especially when Cassie made it clear she approved.

Sadly, little Cassie had worn herself out while helping build the extensive maze that now filled almost all of Scott’s home. Under the warm glow of the string lights, everything felt at peace. The air was warm and comfortable and silent, and you had laughed yourselves into a quiet stupor. She sprawled out along a line of pillows, cheek pressed to one in a way that made her mouth hang slightly open. A recently eaten lunch and the overall atmosphere had knocked her out, and you didn’t have the heart to wake her.

If it weren’t for you and Scott talking, you would have dozed off as well.

“You know, forts were smaller when I was a kid.”

Scott chuckled, the sound sounding fuller inside the couch cushion walls. “I know, but nothing’s too big for my Cassie. If I could, I’d build her a whole palace out of pillows.”

“Not sure that would hold up very well.” You pointed out.  
“That’s what she said. Oh!” He had to cough into his fist to keep from laughing too loudly. “You wanna know something else she said earlier? We were settin’ up one of the tunnels and talking about you, and out of nowhere she tells me she approves. Says in her cute little voice, ‘daddy, you have my blessing!’ I didn’t even know she knew what they meant!”

“She said that to me too!” You chuckled as quietly as you could, but a snort may have escaped despite your efforts.

“Really? She’s getting sneakier. And smarter. I’m gonna have to keep an eye on her.” Scott’s hold around your shoulders tightened a fraction, bright eyes lazily traveling from one minute facial feature to the next. “Think there’s something behind it?”

“Behind what?” You met his gaze, heart growing warmer in your chest. It shouldn’t be possible that one man could be so damn attractive while doing absolutely nothing at all.

“What she said. If my daughter gave us her blessing. . .” He trailed off, eyebrows rising in question. You couldn’t help it — a twitchy, anxious smile began to flicker across your lips. Having Cassie’s approval was a lovely bonus, but you couldn’t have anticipated that he would take it so seriously.

Although, thinking about it, this was something you should have expected. There was no one more important to him than his daughter, and her opinion mattered more than most. The realization struck you hard, and all you could do was sit there with a dumbfounded expression on your face. Scott waved his hand in front of your nose to get your attention, but it took more than that to snap you out of it.

“( Y/N )? You there? Hello?” He tapped a knuckle against your forehead, making a hollow knocking sound with his tongue at the same time. You blinked, stared at him blankly, then repaid his look of concern with a deeply set frown.

“Do you think she meant it?” Your voice betrayed every bit of concern you felt, and for once you didn’t mind. Scott, startled by your abrupt change in mood, was at a loss for all of three seconds before he scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t she? I know she’s a kid, but she’s never really been the type to lie.”

“No, I know. She’s a good kid. I dunno, I guess. . . I never really thought about how real this could be until now! I think I’ve liked you for a long time and could never do anything about it because you liked Maggie. Then you got married to her and had a baby, and I really knew I had missed out then. But now you’re divorced, and we’re here. Together. And Cassie seems to like me. There’s no way I could ever be a part of your family, but——!”

“Woah, slow down.” Scott’s warm hands took your face, pulling you into the silence he subtly asked for. “Can you take a couple of breaths for me?”

You nodded and breathed, deeply and slowly.

“Good. Now smile for me.” He wasn’t demanding, but you felt compelled to do as he said. Your smile was feeble at best, but he accepted it. “There we go. Now try to touch the tip of your nose with your tongue.”

Rather than comply, you snorted. The sound was much louder than you intended, eyes darting over to Cassie’s sleeping frame. She sucked in a deep breath, but gave no other signs that she was waking.

“Scottie. . .”

“You’re worrying again. You really gotta stop that.” One hand shifted ever-so-slightly, the pad of his thumb caressing at the apple of your cheek. You, still in the process of fretting, gave him a stubborn grunt. “I mean it. You’ve got nothing to worry about. I know we’re doing things out of order and it’s weird with me having been married once already, but I wouldn’t want to do it out of order with anyone else.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, I mean it. We’ve got our chance now, so let’s not mess it up by thinking we don’t deserve it.” He cracked a small, sweet smile and leaned closer. His hold on you moved to your waist now, fingers gently kneading at the small of your back “Besides, who wouldn’t want you to stick around. You’ve got the most gorgeous set of eyes I’ve ever seen, and your smile — I know they told us not to stare directly at the sun, but I’m lookin’ at it right now and feel perfectly fine.”

“Oh, wow. That was lame, even for you. How many times has that line worked for you so far?” Your laughter was only meant to hide how flustered his words had made you, a hundred or so knots bundling together in your gut and trapping dozens of butterflies that tried to wriggle free.

Scott smiled sheepishly.

“Before you? Not even once.” He admitted. One of the butterflies managed to escape then, frantic fluttering moving from your stomach to your chest. You wanted to say something snarky in return, but everything that came to mind was sugary-sweet and sappy.

“Think it might have worked this time.” You admitted shyly. Both of you shared a smile that communicated only one message; that nothing more needed to be said. With his arms around you, the dim speckling of light dancing around your heads and the increasing warmth, you saw no reason to delay what was sought out by the two of you.

Scott shared that sentiment, and you would be forever grateful that he had been the one to boldly move forward. The kiss you had been daydreaming about for over a week was finally pressed to your lips, albeit gently and hesitantly. His touch was uncertain, as if questioning whether or not you wanted it. You hoped the hand you buried into his hair proved that you didn’t want to part from him any time soon.

And so you didn’t.

The feather-light brush of his lips against yours melted away, became something deeper and livelier. You were settled into the mound of pillows underneath your back, and he eagerly leaned in to keep you pinned there. Every little quirk of his lips revealed that he was too much of a giddy dweeb not to smile during, not that you were bothered. You were smiling just as often, mostly because his short stubble tickled at your skin. The little, muffled grunts he let loose between your smaller kisses didn’t help either.

Every so often you’d part to give yourselves a breather, only to move in again when the other least expected it. There was nothing serious about the moment — after all of the missed opportunities and many days spent wondering what could have been, there was nothing but relief and elation to be felt. You were happy, and neither of you wanted to let up on showing that.

Between those breathtaking kisses when you’d tug at his lower lip, he would peck quickly and precisely at yours. He told you it was for every year that he missed out on kissing you, but it felt to you like he was making amends for every second that you hadn’t been together. There was plenty of time to catch up now, and you swore to yourself that you would take every chance that was given to you from here on out.

“Ew. . .” Groggily, Cassie interrupted your sickly sweet moment with Scott. Parting was a disappointment, but the look you found in her face when you turned your eyes towards her was not. She accepted the possibility that you might have feelings for her father, but she didn’t want to wake to find the two of you locking lips.

“Every time!” Scott grumbled under his breath and dropped his forehead against your shoulder.

“Sorry, Cas. I know that was gross.” You put some distance between yourself and Scott, only for him to huff indignantly. Loving on the man you had crushed on since middle school was 

“Did you just call our first kiss gross? Please, the way you were kissing me back totally gave away that you liked it.” His comment only made Cassie’s look of mild disgust all the more prominent. You rolled your eyes so hard, you thought they were going remain stuck looking upwards.

“Alright, lover boy. Relax.” He was given a harmless shove, the motion granting him only a couple of seconds to sneak a kiss to your cheek. “Maybe we should save the rest for later? You know, when there isn’t an extra pair of eyes!”

You lunged, but Cassie had already caught on halfway through. She was long gone, high-pitched shriek growing quieter the further away she fled. Few things distracted a child more effectively than the threat of being tickled.

“We going after her?” Scott slinked around you, giving you a devilish smirk. You nodded, sporting a conniving look of your own.

“She doesn’t stand a chance.”


	6. Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott would absolutely be needy and want pampering when he was sick, and you're the only one that's willing to put up with it. Love is selfless and slightly covered in snot.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments! I'm a doof and didn't realize I could reply to them until recently. Whoops. I have been reading them, though! You're all so kind and amazing, thank you. Also!! Considering some angst or smut soon, but it feels too early for naughty stuff. Hmmmm. . .

Scott’s house arrest had lasted for five months and seven days so far, and he swore to you that the last three weeks had been the best. Part of you knew that it was because of the more frequent visits and the kissing that often happened during said visits, but you didn’t mind. If locking lips and combing your fingers through his dark hair was what brightened his mood, you would gladly do it as often as humanly possible — except for today.

Today, there would be no kissing. No hand holding. No snuggling.

With his nose red and runny and his eyes almost always glued shut with exhaustion, there wouldn’t be much of anything done. You did, however, sit at his beside, legs crossed and eyes trained on the small text of the book you had brought with you. You flipped through the pages steadily, engrossed in the story and Scott’s soft breathing. The stuffiness of his nose gave it a whine, but you could ignore it.

A change in the steady in-and-out caught your attention, eyes flicking upwards. You saw him cringe, dark eyebrows knitting together and faint wheezes escaping the slight part in his lips. You could tell by the way his chest seized that he was trying to suppress the urge to cough.

“Scottie, you gotta let it out.” Leaning forward, you bookmarked your spot with your finger and reached out to stroke his damp hair from his forehead. He shook his head, looked pained for a moment, then finally let the build up of coughs loose. They rattled in his lungs and flattened him against the mattress, whole body shaking with every heave. You felt your own chest ache just from watching.

“This sucks. I never get sick!” He reached over to grab a tissue and bury his nose into it. The honk that followed sounded productive, but he was still stuffed up when to tossed ( and missed ) it towards the trash bin near the door. It joined the steadily growing pile that you swore you would pick up once you had a pair of clean gloves to protect you.

“It happens. These kinds of things sneak up on you when you least expect it. And with Cassie going to all these birthday parties during summer break, she’s bound to carry something around with her.” You shrugged helplessly and went back to slouching in your seat.

“Yeah, well.  . . It’s still stupid. I want to do something.” He complained like a child, and all you could offer was a small eye roll.

“You can’t do anything to begin with because of your house arrest. How is being sick any different?”

“Uh, it’s  _ very  _ different. At least when I’m well, I can watch TV or play my drums! And I don’t sound like Steve Urkel.” He paused to blow his nose again. “I hate laying in bed for so long and being confined to my room. It feels like prison all over again.  . . Wake up, take my food in my cell, lay around and do nothing.”

You had insisted that he stay in bed and rest as much as possible, and he had never given you a reason as to why he was so against it until now. Your heart sank listening to him recall the dismal schedule he had been forced to live out during his three year sentence. You couldn’t imagine that it was easy, especially when he had a daughter he wanted desperately to provide for. Being forced to endure another stint of time in his own home was bad enough, but you had shoved him into his room with little to do while he recovered.

“Not to mention I had to keep from being someone’s bitch the whole time.” He added quickly.

“You mean you weren’t?” You questioned. Scott sat up and squinted at you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” You clamped your lips shut and brought your book closer to your face, hiding the way your lips wobbled.

His eyes narrowed even more. “You’re mean when I’m sick. What happened to all the kisses and you being nice?”

“I don’t want to get sick too.” You repeated for the hundredth time in the last three days.

“You can’t get sick from being nice.” He pointed out. Sighing and finally pushing your bookmark into your book, you set it on his bedside table for later. Scott had a point, and it prompted you to mumble an apology.

“You know I worry.” You fidgeted, fingers picking little flecks of cloth from his blanket. “If I let you into the kitchen while I make lunch, will you promise not to cough on everything?”

“I promise!”

Never in your entire life had you witnessed a sick person move so quickly. It was obvious from the way he jerked and winched that his body was still in the middle of a rebellion, but that was why you were there — to help when it looked like he needed it most. Ducking under his arm, you looped it around your shoulders and supported him as best as you could. Scott didn’t look half as dense as he felt. You blamed him being sick for the lethargy and sudden increase in weight.

“Sit down and tell me what you want.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grunted as he was left to stand in the middle of the kitchen. “I won’t be able to taste any of it.”

“Yeah, but I want to be  _ niiiice _ .” You cooed the last word with a mocking tone as you wiggled your hips. Scott was sick, but he wasn’t blind. He watched the way you would swing your hips to and fro, teeth biting at his lower lip. You, completely unaware, went on with your business of opening up a can of soup.

“You _are_ nice.” He reminded you. Lazily, he wrapped his arms around your middle, face rubbing against the back of your shoulder. He was warm and smelled of illness, which was an unappealing combination of used tissues and that clear gel people rubbed on their chest to relieve their sinuses.

“You think so?” You turned your head when his chin came to rest on your shoulder, lips pressing to his hot cheek. Almost immediately, you pulled away. Curious fingers pressed to his forehead, feeling that he was entirely too feverish for your liking. A moment later, you dragged your fingers into his dark and sweaty hair. “God, you’re hot.”

“Mmn, so are you, sexy.” He tried to purr for temptations sake, but it only made him want to cough.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You eat, then you’re going back to bed to rest. Or should I have you eat in bed? I don’t want you on your feet.” You were fretting again, turning away from the bubbling pot of soup you had put on the stove. Scott loomed behind you, all six feet of his frame swaying. Any sparkle he had in his eyes had gone with his health, leaving bags under his eyes and his skin a sickly shade of pale green.

“M’fine.” He protested.

“You’re not fine. Why are you so stubborn about this? You’re sick, Scott.” You cupped his cheeks with both hands and pulled him closer. A reddish splotch of color rose in his cheeks when your noses touched. No matter how often you two had kissed, it still flustered you both to be this close. You weren’t aiming to kiss him, however.

Brows knitting together, you gave him a stern glare. “Bed.”

“Do I have to?” He whined, realizing that you weren’t about to lock lips with a man so infested with germs.

“Now. Get back into bed. I’ll bring your food to you in a few minutes.” You wished you hadn’t given him the opportunity to stand. That had only made things worse, and now he was behaving twice as childishly because of it.

“Are you my mom or my girlfriend, Y/N? Geeze.  . .” He reached under his shirt and scratched at his stomach, feet slowly turning him away from you. You had turned as well, fingers reaching for the wooden spoon you would use to stir the soup — until what he said sunk in.

A jolt raced up from the tips of your fingers and along your spine, body whipping around yet again.

“What did you say?” Your voice was pinched with skepticism. He hadn’t said that word. He couldn’t have.

Scott paused, back still to you. Silence weighed down on you both, but even sickness couldn’t stop him from shattering it with a nasled laugh. “I asked if you were my mother.”

“No, the other part!”

“Geeze?” He was dragging this on, and you were too taken aback to stop him. You shook your head and made to argue, but Scott had closed the distance between you, one hand on your cheek and the other holding your waist. The heat was back, and it took him speaking first to keep you from reminding him that he ought to be in bed already. “I asked if you were my mother or my girlfriend.”

“Who even asks that?” You steadied your breath to the point of almost holding it while you searched his face. There was no hint of a joke, no teasing smile on his face. He was at it again, hitting you with his humor and charm just so he could mask something deeper.

“You’re not giving me an answer.” He prompted.

“And you’re not listening to me. You should have been in bed by now.” You countered. That wasn’t the answer he was seeking; your flippant avoidance of the question threw him off, his smile faltering significantly.

“If it’s too soon.  . .” He started hesitantly.

“No! That’s not it. I just—— I wasn’t expecting it. It’s only been three weeks, so I thought——”

“Three weeks and four days,” corrected Scott with a disgusting sniff.

“You’re keeping track?” You felt your face heat to nearly the same temperature as his.

“Why wouldn’t I? You and Cassie are the only things keeping this house arrest from being utter hell, and I don’t want to take it for granted.” He muttered sincerely, nose nuzzling against your cheek. “But if you’re not ready to be my——”

“No, I’m ready. I am. And you’re sure it’s not too soon?” You wondered, teeth worrying at your lower lip. Scott grazed his thumb against that same lip, giving you reason to stop your gnawing. Your eyes met, and every positive feeling he gave you came back in a rush.

“Positive. I’ve told you already, we missed out on a lot. The sooner I can call you my girlfriend, the sooner I can make up for it.” He flashed another smile, but the energy given by the conversation was drained from his body all too quickly. Fuzzy in the head, Scott leaned in and lowered his voice. “I can’t tell if me wanting to kiss you this badly is because I’m crazy about you, or if it’s the cold wanting to infect other people.”

The moment wasn’t ruined, but you weren’t going to let him get away with that.

“That’s not how colds work, Scottie, and you’re still not kissing me. It’s bad enough I just let you breathe all over me.” You placed your hands on his shoulders and turned him, ushering him back towards his room.

“I can’t even have one?” He moped. Knowing he wouldn’t leave until you obliged him, you pressed your lips to his back, right where you knew his spine would be. His body quivered, illness making him all the more sensitive to your touch. If you weren’t so keen on staying healthy, you might have used that.

“Better?”

“Better. I’ll go lay down now.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent the same way. You brought him his lunch, a bowl of hot chicken broth, expecting that he might have the appetite for it. He did, but Scott didn’t start to eat until you humored his request to be fed. In all the years you had known him, you had never seen him sick. He had missed days at school, you did remember that, but your parents had advised you not to visit during those days.

You fed him a few spoonfuls of his soup, resisting the urge to scold him. He was adorable despite his neediness, and you had it bad. The whining, nose-rubbing, coughing and weariness did nothing to lessen your adoration for him. If anything, you were grateful that this awful cold had given you the chance to prove just how determined you were to love him.

You scoffed and reprimanded him, warned him not to overexert himself, yet between every warning you stroked his hair and felt lovingly at his cheek. You swiped the cold sweat from his brow and finally tossed the landfill of tissues growing around the trash bin. Helping him into the shower wasn’t half as easy as the rest of your nurse duties, but it was nice to see that giving himself a scrub and soaking in the stream of hot water brought back some semblance of life.

By the time night fell, he was slouched on the sofa, a robe wrapped tightly around his body. You were tucked against him, vision darting between the television and his face. A commercial you had seen three times already was playing again; the little, cartoon germs were cackling at the poor woman they had made sick. Scott snorted.

“Little bastards. Bet they’re laughing at me right now.”

You laughed. “Again, not how it works.”

“I wonder.  . . If I got in the suit and shrunk down, would the germs shrink with me? Can they even get that small? If I went subatomic, would they just disappear?” He was muttering to himself, but you heard all of it.

“Subatomic?”

“What?”

“You said something about going subatomic.” You raised a brow and watched him shift uneasily.

“I did? Oh, that’s.  . . just a thing. Don’t worry about it.” He coughed and squeezed your shoulders with an arm. “Just a weird joke I have with Luis. It’s hard to explain.”

“Mhmm.” You frowned a smidgen and made yourself comfortable against his side again, head resting on his shoulder. “You’re an awful liar.”

“I know. Seriously, it’s nothing important. I’m just sick, losing my mind.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Damn him and his charm.

“I’m not gonna rag on you, Scott. Relax. You have your weird inside-jokes with your friends.” You patted at his chest and finally gave him a small but warm kiss to his jaw. After avoiding it for a whole three days, that small gesture was bound to have an effect on the poor, affection-starved man.

His skin prickled and his eyes slid closed, while calloused fingers grasped at your shirt.

“You said you weren’t going to kiss me while I was sick.” He managed to breathe, voice soft with appreciation and tinged with want.

You hummed and moved your lips, pecking at his neck. The earlier aroma of sick had gone thanks to his shower, and you were weak for the scent of his body wash. “I’m not kissing your mouth. I can’t get sick like this, right?”

“Does that mean you’ll come to bed with me?” His voice didn’t suggest that he had ulterior motives. After he had caught his cold, you had opted for sleeping on the sofa and ensuring you didn’t catch what he was suffering from. His only intent was to have you there when he woke up, and he told you as much. “Seeing you first thing in the morning will make me feel better.”

“You have been recovering, and you aren’t as sick as you used to be.” You mused.

Scott nodded and leaned his head against yours. He was still too sick to make a move at you, no matter how wildly his mind wandered.

“Please?” He pleaded softly.

You gave him one more kiss on the neck before standing, your hands pulling at his. It was late, and he looked like he was on the verge of dozing off. Gentle tugs brought him to his feet. He followed along as he was brought once again to his bedside. With all the grace of a drugged elephant, he flopped onto the covers.

“I’m gonna warn you now,” he started with his voice muffled in his pillow, “I’m a snuggler.”

“I expected as much. Except a lot of snoring from you too.” The two of you were quick to shed the clothes you were comfortable with. He ditched the robe and his slippers, feeling mighty comfortable in his boxers and a t-shirt. You remained dressed, since you were still shy about him seeing certain parts of you. Scott didn’t complain; you sleeping in the same bed with him was all he wanted and needed, and he was grateful you hadn’t rejected the idea.

Snug in his arms, you felt the desire to sleep grab you as quickly as it grabbed him.

“See you in the morning?”

“Of course.” He promised. “Good night,  _ girlfriend _ .”

“Good night,  _ boyfriend _ .”


	7. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, another late chapter! I was trying to figure out what to do about the reader knowing / not knowing Scott is Ant-Man thing, and I finally decided. Wasn't as angsty as I had hoped, but it's hard to be mad at Scott when he's so damn cute!! Thanks again for your comments and kudos!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!

You had always suspected, but it never became clear until now that  _ she  _ didn’t approve.

Another two months had passed, and things were even cozier between you and Scott. He had recovered well from his cold, celebrating with a six-pack of beer and a pizza the both of you devoured in record time. The only thing that had ruined his recovery was the fact that Cassie couldn’t visit. Too many appointments had been scheduled, not to mention that school had started for her.

Scott’s chances to see her were dwindling, so it was with a great rush of excitement and relief that he told you this weekend would grant him visitation. You were happy for him, his eagerness growing infectious over time. The two of you had even gone so far as to plan a special dinner for the girl, gathering all you needed to prepare her favorites.

The kitchen smelled of decent cooking and was almost as hot as the inside of the oven when you heard a knock on the door. You both paused, but you were the one that offered to get the door. Scott wasn’t an amazing cook, but he was of sufficient ‘dad-level’ and was the one that had looked forward to this evening the most. He needed the bragging rights.

You regretted being the one to step forward.

As soon as you opened the door, you were greeted with an enormous hug and a pleased squeal from Cassie. Maggie, on the other hand, looked unpleasantly surprised to see you.

“Oh. ( Y/N )  . . .”

“Hey, Mags. Thanks for dropping Cassie off. Scott’s been dying to see her again now that he’s over his cold.” You smiled sweetly. Whether it was sincere or done to spite her, she didn’t seem to care. Her frown remained in place, and it was dulling your almost effervescent mood, turning it into the equivalent of a flat can of soda.

“You’re here again?” She asked.

You shifted and peered down at Cassie, who happened to be glancing between the two of you. Sweetening your smile even more, you crouched to meet her eyes. “Why don’t you head inside? Your dad’s been working really hard on dinner, and I know he wants you to be the first to try it.”

“Okay! Daddy! Daddy, I’m here!” She screeched with glee and whizzed past you, leaving you to deal with Maggie’s confrontational glare.

“Is there something wrong with me being here?” You asked in as calm a tone as possible.

“No, but.  . . I’m worried you’re going to get attached.” The slight cringe she gave was meant to imply concern for you, but you felt none of it. Bristling, you had to cross your arms to keep from balling your fists.

“What if I’m already attached?” You asked.

“You can’t be——”

“Already am! It’s been two and a half months just about, so I think I’m good and attached.” Almost felt like bragging when your chest puffed and your shoulders straightened. Nearly three months had passed, and you had to admit to yourself that it was going well despite your boyfriend being suck under house arrest. Maybe, if you weren’t as bad as this dating thing as you thought you were, you could help the rest of his time pass in a flash.

Maggie wasn’t traveling on that same train of thought, sadly.

“Are you telling me you’ve been dating him for two months already?” She sounded skeptical, and that only irked you further.

“Yeah, we have been. Why’s that so hard for you to wrap your mind around?”

“Because you hardly know him!”

“I’ve known him longer than you!” You didn’t mean to shout, but you wouldn’t have your feelings for Scott ragged on by his ex-wife.

“That doesn’t matter! After we got married, you hardly spoke to him!” It was her turn to raise her voice now. You shrank back, fingers grasping at the crook of your elbow. She was right — after Scott had that engagement ring on his finger, you hardly felt there was room for you. A husband, a wife and their precious daughter didn’t need a best friend trying her hardest to hang on when there had been no reason to.

“I didn’t——”

“There are things about him that you don’t know, ( Y/N ). Has he even told you why he’s under house arrest?”

You shook your head.

“No, but I didn’t think it was my place to ask! Anything Scott’s done, it doesn’t matter to me. He’s a good guy!” You insisted feebly.

“That’s what I thought too, but doesn’t it bother you that he hasn’t told you?”

The nagging thought began to pick away at you. Curious, you stepped forward. You were about to ask her what the reasons were, but you felt a presence behind you. It was both familiar and unfamiliar. Scott’s usual smile was in place, but there was an energy emitting from him that made you shudder.

“Ladies,” he cooed playfully, “something up?”

“Scott.  . .” You turned to him, but he wasn’t looking for an actual answer.

“Dinner’s ready, ( Y/N ). Was worried you ducked out on us for a second when you didn’t come in with Cas. Hate to be rude, Mags, but we’re gonna head back inside.” He looped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. There was no jealousy to be had from Maggie, but she did look uneasy seeing the two of you so close.

There was a chance that she did worry about you — a single woman dating a divorced man with a daughter that happened to be trapped in his own home for two years didn’t happen often as far as you knew. It sounded like a relationship headed for heartbreak and stress, but you were desperate not to let that happen. Not with him.

But you had to know, or else the feeling would begin to eat you alive.

“Scott?” You weren’t content with only uttering his name, but he cut you off before you could continue.

“( Y/N ), don’t.  . .  _ Please _ .”

Halfway to the kitchen, you shoved yourself from his side. The tiny seed of doubt that had been buried in your chest bloomed in the blink of an eye, filling the cavities with a sickening feeling. In the back of your mind, you heard Maggie giving you an ‘I told you so.’

“Oh my God, she was right. You’re hiding something from me. Scott!”

“I’m——! Listen, keep your voice down! Shh!” His hands grasped at your shoulders, firm hold silencing you. Your expression was stony and set, but he went on. “I heard what Maggie said, but now isn’t the time to talk about this.”

“When will it be the right time? Because this whole time, I’ve been telling myself that it doesn’t matter what you did. Now it feels like everyone knows, and I’m out of some important loop. Maggie seems to think it’s interesting that I don’t know.” You tried to keep your breathing even, but every second that he didn’t reply to you made your breaths quicken and grow shallow.

You began to assume the worst. It was a habit of yours; things were hardly ever as bad as they seemed, but your mind tended to flip a small but easy to reach switch that made your thoughts rush.

Swallowing hard, you took a step back.

“Did you kill someone?”

Scott appeared thoroughly rattled by the accusation. “What? No! Wow, that’s the first thing you go to?”

“What else am I supposed to think? You’re not telling me! What did you do? I swear it still won’t matter to me, but.  . . what? Do you not trust me?” That possibility worried you more than any assumptions you may have had about his arrest.

“I trust you so much.” He occupied the space you had created and brushed a lock of hair from your face. “Believe me, babe, this isn’t easy on me. I know I should tell you. I  _ want  _ to tell you. The only reason I haven’t is because I’m terrified something will happen to you if I do. I can’t be the reason you’re in trouble, and I don’t want you to get hurt while I’m stuck here. The hell kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t keep you safe?”

“Safe? From what?”

“( Y/N ), trust me. I know this is going to be frustrating as hell, but I can’t tell you. Not yet. Just don’t be too mad. Please. I’m not doing this to hurt you.” The back of his knuckle swept across your cheek, but your face remained wrinkled and dark with confusion. “Hey, come on. Stop looking at me like that. I’ve got Cassie waiting for us in the kitchen, I didn’t burn dinner, and I’ve got the hottest woman alive in my house.”

“We’re not done talking about this.” You warned. “And flattery, really?”

“Usually works.” He shrugged.

“Just tell me one thing.” You linked your fingers behind his neck and dragged him down, your forehead touching. Scott bent willingly, let his sparkling eyes lock with yours. “Will I ever know?”

“One day.  _ Maybe _ . Ow!” He knew his answer would irk you, and he was pinched on the arm for it.

“Maybe?”

“I was kidding! I swear I’ll tell you, but it can’t be until after my house arrest.” He jumped back, expecting another pinch. You narrowed your eyes, folded your arms, then let down the wall of suspicion that was bittering your mood. Things would feel odd until you learned the truth, but you found it difficult to truly be upset with him. Annoyed, yes, but not mad. He claimed he kept the reason for his arrest from you was because he wanted to protect you. You didn’t want to be coddled or kept in the dark, but you supposed that he was doing this all out of the goodness of his heart.

What a sap.  . . But he was your sap.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You growled. Scott grinned and, with an equally deep growl, pulled you into his arms.

“Must be lucky if I’ve got you.” His head leaned forward, lips aiming for yours. A quick turn of your head forced him to kiss your cheek instead.

“Ah, ah. Still annoyed at you, and we’ve got dinner waiting.” You patted at his cheek and slipped out of his grasp. Scott pouted, but there was little to complain about as he watched you walk into the kitchen.

Cassie was sitting at the table like the considerate girl that she was, hands under her legs and feet swinging. She hummed, the tune high and bubbly, until she spotted you walking in. Rather than smiling, she frowned and gave you the pair of puppy-dog eyes she saved for her parents when she wanted to cute information out of them.

“Did you and daddy fight?”

“No! Nooooo. It’s nothing! Really, I just got upset over something stupid.” You forced a laugh and waved your hand.

“Like what?” Cassie stared, her dark eyes piercing. Persistent.

“Just a secret.” You tried not to elaborate as you made your way over to the table where you seated yourself to her right. You weren’t half as hungry now as you were before Cassie’s arrival, but you would never waste all of the effort Scott had put into cooking. It wasn’t a talent of his, so you had to appreciate that he had done well this time around — there wasn’t a single fleck of burnt food to be seen, and you were proud.

“Ooooh. Did he finally tell you he’s Ant-Man?”

The silence that fell over the dinner table was heavy. It settled like a blanket of snow, giving you a chill you didn’t think you could feel in a kitchen that was still buzzing with heat from the stove. Scott, already seated across from his daughter, looked as if he had been struck square in the abdomen. He floundered; his mouth opened and closed, his eyes darted and his heart tried its hardest to find its way out of his chest.

With your blank stare, you fared no better.

“I’m sorry, what? He’s who-now?”

The connection hadn’t been made, and it still refused to sink in. She had to be joking. You knew who Ant-Man was, as his gigantic face had been plastered all over the internet and news after the fight in Germany. He was one of the select few that had made an impression on you, and it was mostly due to his size. You couldn’t tell how tall he was then just by looking at a picture of him on a screen, but it was blatantly obvious that he had well exceeded the current record for world’s tallest living man.

And while you didn’t want to put an opinion in on a situation that didn’t concern you, you had to admit that he had been one hell of a fighter. He had fought on Captain America’s side, you knew that much. But then that would mean.  . .

“I called you that day.” You sat back in your seat. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the man sweat. He passed Cassie a disapproving look. Thin lips pulled into a straight line, and he refused to speak. “I called you! Of all the days I could have, it was that day! You told me you were leaving town. Thought you sounded kind of off then, but I figured you were runnin’ late or something.”

“( Y/N ).  . .”

“Oh, God. You were in Berlin. That was you?” A sharp and sudden breath was taken in, and suddenly it felt the floor giving out underneath you. Your grasped the edge of the table, head swimming and spinning.

“Wait, I can explain.”

“You could have been killed, you dumbass!” You snap, catching Cassie and Scott off guard.

“You swore.  . .” Cassie gasped.

“I’ll put a dollar in the jar later! Scott, please tell me she was kidding. You’re not really him, are you?” Few people wanted to be lied to, but you were thinking now that it  _ was  _ best you didn’t know.  Fretting over him while he was sick was one thing, but accepting that he might be a hero was impossible. All the risks, all the crazies that wanted to do the world in. You felt yourself grow sick thinking back on all the footage the news showed of the fight, of Scott reaching colossal proportions and tearing apart a plane with his hands alone.

“I’m not kidding!” Cassie said rather defensively. “He saved me once! There was this scary man that came into my room, and he kept saying he wanted my dad. Daddy fought him, then he got super small, and——”

“Subatomic.” So many small comments Scott had made in the recent weeks made sense now. “So it wasn’t an inside joke with Luis.”

“( Y/N ), I can understand if you’re pissed at me, but——”

“Swear!”

“Okay, Peanut, how about this?” Scott stood, found his wallet where he had last left it and pulled out a few of the wrinkled bills inside. “I’ll give you twenty bucks to go into the living room and watch some TV while you eat. It’s an advance because I have a feeling we’re not done  _ expressing  _ ourselves.”

He gave you a pointed look, and you gave him a defiant one in return.

“Sure as hell ain’t.” You grunted. “Give her an extra ten on my behalf.”

“Thanks, daddy!” Cassie snatched the money, accepted the additional bills passed her way, then carried her plate of food out into the living room.

Once Scott was seated again, you cast him a heartbreaking look of disappointment. “This is how I find out? You say me you can’t tell me, then she’s the one that lets it slip two seconds later? Cassie knew this whole time?”

“I didn’t want her to know! I was doing it for her, but I didn’t want her to know anything about it. But when that asshole tried to take her hostage because of me, I had to stop him. She found out. I made her swear not to tell you because I didn’t want you to get wrapped up in all this.” Scott motioned vaguely to the dining room, to the house. To his life in general.

“Get wrapped up in what?”

“My arrest. I should be in prison right now, ( Y/N ). And not the prison I was in before. I’m talking maximum security. The Raft, you ever heard of it?”

You shook your head, and he went on.

“Not a nice place. I got chucked in there because I was fighting on Cap’s side.” He paused, seeing your lips part in a silent gasp.

“But he’s——”

“A fugitive, I know. I did what I had to because it felt right. But because of that, I got locked up. If it weren’t for me having a family and making a deal, I would have been there for who-knows how long. I got lucky, ( Y/N ). I got put on house arrest where I can still see my daughter. But.  . . I can’t talk to Hank or Hope or——”

“Who the hell are they?”

“Hank’s the one that made the suit, made all the tech so that I can do the whole shrinking thing. Hope is his daughter. She taught me a lot. They made the technology, so they’re involved. If I tried to contact them, it’d be game over. They’d get in trouble, and I’d have my ass tossed into a cell again. That’s why I didn’t want you to know. If you knew, there was a chance the government would find out and you’d be considered an accomplice. I didn’t want to do that to you.”

Another long pause stretched between the two of you, and in that time you thought.

You made no sound, nor did you move. You simply sat there, eyes boring a hole into the wood flooring under your feet. You toed at the subtle grains in the panels, refusing to look up at him while he stared intently at your expressionless features. You could sense him fretting. He wanted a reply, a reaction, something that would earn him a peek into your mind.

When you remained silent, he nudged your foot with his.

“For the record, they’re mad at me too. I took the suit without telling them. Pretty sure they hate me.” He grumbled.

“So you’re getting good at this ‘not telling people the truth’ thing, huh?”

“( Y/N ), that’s not fair! What am I supposed to do, blab to the whole world that I’m Ant-Man? The people I love most could get hurt if I did, and I’ve done enough! I hurt Cassie the first time I got put away, and I hurt you by trying to protect you! I’m sorry, I really am, but you can’t act like this was something I enjoyed keeping from you.” His voice was thick and strained, and that was what broke you. Scott could hide that he was a size-changing hero, but he had never learned how to hide his emotions.

“Scottie.  . . Look, it’s going to take me a while to accept that you’re him. You’re Ant-Man. I don’t know how you do what you do, but — if you’re right — it’s best that I don’t get that lesson until later. Right?”

“Right.”

“I don’t want them to lock you up again. I don’t want Cassie to have to live without her father because I was being too stubborn to quit. I won’t ask again, not until you’re through with your house arrest and you feel ready to. But when you are ready, you can’t hold back. You gotta tell me about all of it. I’ll listen. I swear I will.” Your firm reassurance gave him a reason to smile. He reached across the table, and you gladly put your hand in his. The tips of your fingers traced the thick lines in his palm, and you finally released the pent-up breath you had been trying to hold. “So you fought Iron Man?”

“Mhmm. Plus Black Widow and some Spider-Punk. I kicked serious ass out there.” He shrugged and sniffed, like it was meant to portray some semblance of modesty.

“And then you ended up in prison.” You pointed out casually.

“Only for a little while!” Scott griped. You smiled and squeezed his hand. He returned the gesture, but added a small and sweet kiss to the back of your knuckles. “So you’re not mad?”

“Furious.” You laughed. “No, I’m not mad. Worried as hell, yeah. I still don’t get it, but I will in time. I hope. I think. I dunno. Who else knows?”

“Maggie and Paxton. Luis.”

“Luis knows?” You weren’t well acquainted with Luis, but the few times you had met him were amusing. He was a talker, but it was fortunate that you were an excellent listener for the most part.

“Yeah. The guys helped me out before, had to show ‘em.” Scott sounded sheepish, and for good reason.

“I’m really the only one that didn’t know? I feel like a moron now. I should’a seen it.” You lowered your head and rubbed at the back of your neck. Scott chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re not a moron. I’m the idiot that thought I could keep you in the dark. I’m sorry.  . .”

“You should be!” You pulled your hand from his and scowled playfully. “I’m the only one that hasn’t gotten to see you in the suit! Video of you on the news doesn’t count.”

“I do look pretty awesome in it. Really slimming. Makes my butt look good too.” He smirked, but the expression became soft and subdued. “Thanks for not, y’know, running out again. I know you could have. You’d have every right to.”

“I won’t. But you gotta show me the suit eventually. Promise?” You held your hand out, smallest finger extended. Scott rolled his eyes, but wasted no time in linking his pinky finger with yours. It was a childish gesture, but you two had always made sure to go through with the promises you made while you swore by your pinkies.

“Promise.”

Hit with relief, you let loose a sharp exhale. Your hand touched at his cheek, skimmed through his hair, then pulled him in for a kiss. He obliged you, and you realized that very little had changed. And why should anything change? Ant-Man or Scott, he was the man you had fallen for. He was a dork through and through, but a dork that cared. He cared so deeply and passionately, and you couldn’t fault him for that.

Waiting for the answers to your many questions would feel like mental torture, but you would put up with it for him and Cassie. You could pretend, for now, that you knew nothing at all and continue to love him as you had before.

Yet you pulled away from the kiss, leaving him to pucker his lips at the air.

“And just so you know,” you started as you grazed your thumb against his lower lip, “your butt’s _always_ looked good.

Scott smirked. “I know.”


End file.
